


Hey, Stranger

by orphan_account



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Chariot drops by the flower shop and encounters an attractive stranger.





	Hey, Stranger

One of Chariot’s few morning routines is dropping by the flower shop to send Holbrooke a cheery greeting before clocking into work. 

So imagine her surprise, one morning, when she pops right through the door of the flower shop, expecting the kind elderly face she’s known by heart, ‘good morning’ at the ready but then finds an attractive stranger behind the counter instead.

“Ah!” Chariot starts and winces when her foot kicks the door, emitting a loud thud that Chariot sputters out a quick apology once the woman whips her head around at her direction. “I’m so sorry, I, um, hi.”

“Hello,” the woman says, immediately grabbing a brown apron from the counter top and tying it around her waist before walking over to Chariot, closing the distance between them in three steps. “How can I help you?”

“What?” Chariot blinks, “Oh no, no, I’m not here to…” then clears her throat when the stranger moves even closer, forcing Chariot’s gaze onto the woman’s neck and noting the soft lilac curls that caress the creamy skin there. And in her increasingly flustered state, Chariot wills herself to look up the woman’s face, only to be met with a pair of shocking green eyes and a carefully placed neutral expression.

(In that moment, it was quickly becoming apparent to Chariot that she was crushing on her newfound and undeniably handsome stranger, and harder than she thought was possible. Though perhaps this has likely to do with that her previous muses have never been this physically close to her at all before.)

After a while, it takes a few more seconds for Chariot to realize that she had been, in fact, shamelessly staring, backing away half a step in her awareness before mustering an inordinate amount of willpower to temper her growing attraction, if only to save herself from further embarrassment. But there was only so much she could do while under the intense scrutiny of her stranger, failing to keep herself from shuffling her feet.

Chariot then idly wonders how much her cheeks have colored red in the minutes (has it even been that long?) that passed since she set foot inside the shop.

“I was wondering if Miranda was in?” Chariot manages, mentally patting herself in the back when her voice comes out clear and confident in spite of her warm cheeks.

“She will be after lunch,” the woman answers without missing a beat, undeterred from Chariot’s earlier staring and still poker-faced. “Did you need to leave a message?”

“Hm? Ah, no. I just usually drop by every morning to say hello,” Chariot finally recovers. “You must be the new hire. I’m Chariot,” she says and extends a hand to the other woman, “Chariot du Nord. I work at the tattoo parlor next door.”

The woman fixes a quick glance to Chariot’s proffered hand and then slightly upward to the half-sleeved tattoo up her arm that makes Chariot want to melt right on the spot.

“Croix Meridies,” the woman finally says and takes Chariot’s hand into hers for a shake, “I don’t suppose you’re…?”

“French? I am.” Chariot helpfully fills in, an eager smile now etched to her face before letting go of Croix’ soft hand. “Looks like we have something in common already.”

At that, Croix finally slips from her impassive mask and returns a charming smile.

And sure enough, Chariot feels a pleasant buzz run through her stomach up to her chest.

“Well then!” Chariot breathes. “It was nice meeting you, Croix. I’ll… see you around.”

“ _À bientôt, Chariot_ ,” Croix says, bidding her goodbye with a small wave of her hand.

…

When Chariot reaches the parlor, her employer peers over from tabloid and throws her an inquisitive glance.

“What happened to _you_?” Russell asks noncommittally, probably referring to the red on her cheeks as he flips to the next page of the newspaper.

“I need to cool off,” Chariot says and takes a quick left for the employees-only bathroom.

Suffice it to say, Chariot has never dreamed that her own mother tongue would sound so dangerously seductive to her ears.

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on tumblr for charoixweek


End file.
